In the Night
by Wolf Whitewater
Summary: Waiting for a battle one knows is coming is awfully Shakespearian


Title: In The Night   
Author: Wolf Whitewater   
Rating: PG for adult themes, no sex though.   
Warnings: It's a little depressing?   
Characters/Pairings: Most everybody. And one character (implied) I've made up myself. Archive: Yes to those who have previously asked. All others ask first.  
Feedback: YES! I always feel like I could have written better.   
Notes: I'm not sure where this fits in the various Xmen universes. Pick one. (;) The quotes are from the Chorus' prologue to Act 4 of Henry V by Shakespeare. Possibly the start of a Shakespeare series.   
Disclaimer: They all belong to Marvel. And Fox and whoever else. I'm not making money, nor am I seeking filthy lucre for anything. PS I'm not intentionally plagiarizing anybody. So far as I'm aware everything I write is completely original and are ideas that have come out of my own head. If I'm influenced by anybody else's work I'll say so.  
  
"The poor condemned English,  
Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires  
Sit patiently and inly ruminate  
The morning's danger, and their gesture sad  
Investing lank-lean; cheeks and war-worn coats  
Presenteth them unto the gazing moon  
So many horrid ghosts."  
  
Logan sighed and overturned the slim paperback copy of the play on his knee, looking out the tall clerestory windows of the library, through which clear moonlight made silver traces on the old carpet. Though he surely didn't look like it, he enjoyed poetry, and tried to keep the fact hidden from his teammates, feeling as though a love for literature might somehow tarnish his fearsome reputation. Just now he was in the mood to read the words of somebody who knew what it was like. He'd been unable to sleep, the torturous nightmares losing out on their chance to wreak havok with his mind because he'd never lain himself down. Horrid ghosts. . . he wondered who would be lost by this time tomorrow. In some ways, there really wasn't any point in thinking about that. It played hell on your psyche. But on the other hand, if you couldn't sleep, you might as well ruminate the morning's danger—why not? Steeling yourself against what you knew was coming fortified the soul. At least, it did his soul. Somehow, the reality of the real thing wasn't nearly as terrifying if you'd already envisioned the worst possible. The Xmen's sole clairvoyant had predicted an assault on the mansion at dawn, and she hadn't yet been known to be wrong. Logan's keen ears and nose picked out the sounds of people moving about. Apparently he wasn't the only one that couldn't sleep, so he rose to investigate, laying the little volume aside for later. If there was a later. He knew this particular piece by heart anyway.  
  
"O now, who will behold  
The royal captain of this ruin'd band  
Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent,  
Let him cry 'Praise and glory on his head!'  
For forth he goes and visits all his host."  
  
First he found Scott, in the kitchen cooking intently. The red glasses turned towards Logan and he smiled good-naturedly, though the smile was a little tight. "Couldn't sleep, huh?"   
"Nope. That's enough food t' fit an army, an' in style too. Who's comin' for breakfast? Th' Queen of England?"   
"Sorry, Logan. I just thought I'd use up all the perishable stuff. Crab cakes, surf and turf with scrambled eggs, fresh sliced fruit, just squeezed orange juice—everything I like but never seem to have time to cook for myself." Scott gave Logan a twisted smile. "I figure, if it's going to be my last meal, better be a good one."   
Logan eyed Scott. "You don't know that."   
Scott shrugged. "I don't have a healing factor. I don't have any defenses except one, and, well, everybody knows the best way to take me out in a fight is to take my visor off. I'm going to make sure that doesn't happen, but. . ." He flipped the steak over and looked at the lobsters boiling in their water. "Solo's prediction has made everybody rethink things," he added obliquely.   
Logan nodded. "Yeah. It'll be rough. But you'll get us through it."   
Scott nodded in return, a bit grimly. "Don't I always?"  
  
"Bids them good morrow with a modest smile  
And calls them brothers, friends and countrymen.  
Upon his royal face there is no note  
How dread an army hath enrounded him"  
  
Logan gripped Scott's shoulder in understanding as he wandered off, following another scent. This time, he came upon Rogue, nervously and unconsciously shredding the remains of an old pair of gloves in the recroom. "Evenin', Rogue."   
Rogue looked up with a startled smile. "Oh, hi Logan." Twisting her gloves, over and over again. Bits of maroon satin flecked the floor and turned black in the moonlight. Logan sat down beside her. "Nervous, kid?"   
Rogue nodded. "How could I not be?"   
Logan took the gloves gently but firmly from her hands. "Sittin' here alone, thinkin' about th' worst just makes it worse."   
Rogue sighed and laid her head against his shoulder. "I know. But I can't stop thinking about how bad it will hurt."   
Logan was confused. "How bad what will hurt?"   
Rogue was silent for a moment, then confessed. "When something happens to me. I can't stand pain, and I--" she trailed off, tears beginning to form.   
Logan gave her a one-armed hug. "It's ok t' be scared, Marie." But at his soothing words she yanked away from him, angry.   
"How do you know how I feel? You don't have to worry like the rest of us do! Getting hurt is just academic for you!"   
Logan turned his head so he could look Rogue dead in the eye. "Whoever told you I don't feel pain was lyin' through their little white teeth." Rogue snorted.   
"It's not just the pain. You don't have to worry about being scarred, or paralyzed, or blinded, or – or, or even something as simple as breaking a bone! While the rest of us get hurt and stay hurt, you just sail through it all and go on to the next thing! Sure, you might have to wait a few seconds to get better, but--"   
Logan cut her off. "But it doesn't count, huh? Because it ain't permanent?"   
Rogue nodded, a small, ashamed movement. "And it's not fair."   
He sighed. "No, it ain't."   
Rogue shrugged. "You're not mad at me, are you?"   
"What? No, 'course I'm not mad."   
Rogue smiled tremulously. "I've been wanting to talk about this for a while. It never seemed like the right time until now."   
Logan nodded. "Life an' death tends t' do that. But you listen t' me, I know it ain't fair. But you oughta know by now that I use it t' help the rest of you fight an' win. We're all a team, an' if I can help any of you out in a fight by usin' what I got for ya, 'stead of against ya, you know I will. An' I have. Try t' make it as fair as I know how."   
Rogue gave him a small smile and stood up to go, gathering her gloves. "Thanks, Logan."  
  
"Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour  
Unto the weary and all-watched night,  
But freshly looks and over-bears attaint  
With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty;  
That every wretch, pining and pale before,  
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks"  
  
Logan watched her leave. "Yer welcome, kid." And moved on to the greenhouse, where Storm was meditating among her plants and flowers.  
"I knew you'd show up sooner or later."   
"Thanks."  
"Are you having nightmares?"   
"No."   
"No. Never before a battle. Perhaps the adrenaline suppresses them."  
"Haven't been t' bed yet."   
Storm opened her eyes and looked at him. "Of all of us, I think you and Scott take it most to heart."   
Logan was confused. "What?"   
Storm gestured. "All this. The students padding up and down the corridors, their fears forcing them to roam freely. But you, you seek them out and talk to them and tell them what they need to hear and so the waiting becomes endurable."   
Logan half-smiled. "It ain't just th' students. Caught Scott cookin' a king's ransom in th' kitchen, an' now you, meditatin' in here."  
Storm smiled at him. "We all have our ways to make the calm before the storm pass. You prefer to prowl and pace and be active, but in doing so, you are strong and calm, and give heart and courage to everybody you come across."  
Logan considered Storm's words, then shrugged. "It don't make any sense to me t' wait for th' fight lyin' down an' tryin' t' sleep," he admitted to her. "I'd rather be up an' doin' somethin', that's for sure. I never thought about how it'd look t' others. Just doin' what I need to for myself."   
Storm closed her eyes and returned to the lotus. "And so doing, you help others."   
Logan raised a thoughtful eyebrow at that and continued on. Making the rounds, checking things out, reassuring himself that everything was as strong and as ready as it could be. He even went downstairs to the subterranean levels and spied Hank, working furiously in the lab. He knocked on the doorframe, knowing that if he was startled, Beast was likely to lose months of painstaking research. Hank turned as Logan entered. He pulled the door of the heavy wall safe to, then spun and locked it. It was Henry's' private ritual. "Ah, friend Logan. What brings you down here in this state and at such a time of night?"   
Logan grinned. "You're quotin' at me again."   
Hank laid a blue furry hand across his chest. "I? Surely not." A pause. "Well, perhaps it was a bit of levity from The Pirates of Penzance."   
At Logan's blank look, he shook his head. "It's quite a famous operetta by Gilbert and Sullivan, Logan, really, must you be a theatrical philistine?"   
Logan smiled. The joke was an old one. "Yep." He looked around an unusually bare lab. "Where's all th' work?"   
Hank gestured to the safe. "Tucked away for such time as I feel it can be brought out without danger of being destroyed."  
Logan nodded in understanding. "Try t' sleep, Henry."   
The fur on Beast's shoulders rippled as he shrugged. "I will if you will, my friend." Logan offered his hand and the two of them clasped forearms briefly, saying all that needed to be said between them with the one touch.  
  
"A largess universal like the sun  
His liberal eye doth give to every one,"  
  
Charles Xavier smiled to himself, putting the volume of Shakespeare back on the library shelf. Everyone at the mansion knew that Scott was the leader of the X-men. But. . . there was something about the Wolverine.  
  
"Thawing cold fear, that mean and gentle all,  
Behold, as may unworthiness define, A little touch of Logan in the night."


End file.
